


(Kiss You) Good Night

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1667666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based off the Gloriana song (Kissed You) Good Night ((https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzMQu4zTtK8))</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Kiss You) Good Night

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This work is entirely fictional. Credit of original forms of characters to the creators of BBC Sherlock. No Copyright infringement intended. The following is not in any way an official representation of the actual characters/creators/actors and actresses portraying any characters or people who happen to share a name with any potential original characters

      It was unexpected, to say the least.

     The two men had just returned from NSY ("Paperwork is  _boring._ Lestrade will have to call me tomorrow, and I'll do it then") to 221B. They stood in front of their respective chairs-too energized to sit-breathing hard and coming down from the high that accompanied chasing criminals across London.

      "No matter how many times we do it, running around with you all over this city will always be the most ridiculously exciting thing I'll ever do." They  laughed not because it was funny, but because it was as though they had traveled back in time to their first night. Serial killer and all.

      Their eyes locked and after a lingering look John coughed awkwardly, looking to the window, the clock, anywhere but Sherlock's eyes. If he were a bit more drunk on adrenaline he might say he was afraid he'd drown in their blues and warmth.

      "Well," He looked tentatively to Sherlock's nose, "I'd best be off. Got to move Mary's things in the morning." Like 75% of grief-inspired pairs John and Mary had inevitably broken it off. It was mutual, no screaming or hysterical crying. They agreed it was for the best. Mary was staying with Janine, even considering a flatshare with her when the separation was finished. John was staying in their shared flat (for a little while-at least a few weeks more, to avoid paying a lease penalty) 

      "Yes-you'll need your rest-moving out boxes and-and all." Sherlock agreed, walking with  him to the door that lead to the stairs. They stood for a moment as John shrugged on his coat. Then, after a lingering look, John was gone and the door closed softly behind him. 

      Sherlock felt a strange pang of sadness as he heard John's footsteps down the stairs. He didn't understand it. What had he been expecting, John to confess his deep unconditional love for him? No, John was self-proclaimed (many times) Not Gay.

      Sherlock walked slowly to the windows, taking a pause at John's chair, running his hands over the blanket.

      He stood at the window, expecting to see John getting in a taxi. Instead, he saw a most empty street with John looking across the street up at 221B with a thoughtful, almost longing expression.

      Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed: _What was John doing?_

      John's gaze met Sherlock's through the window. They stayed for a moment, Sherlock expressing his confusion openly, before John nodded once, confirming something to himself.

      John started across the road.

      Sherlock practically flew across the flat and down the stairs, the door to the flat left open in his haste.

     Just as he heard John's footsteps outside, Sherlock threw the door open.  John was surprised, his hand still raised  
in midair, presumably to ring the buzzer.

      John rushed forward, taking Sherlock's collar in his hands, pulling him down into a rushed, heated kiss.

      John's kiss was something even Sherlock couldn't predict. It was somehow soft and gentle as well as passionate and loving and- _everything_ , all at once. Sherlock instinctively gripped at John's hips and biceps interchangingly. John's left hand rose to Sherlock's hair, pulling them closer and carding through the curls, his fingers tangling as his right hand moved from the collar to his neck, rubbing down his back and around again. 

      Sherlock always assumed by his reaction to being called John's best friend that if he and John were to kiss he would react in a similar fashion of freezing. He surprised even himself with his reaction to John pulling back and beginning to say, "I-"

      "No." Sherlock nearly growled, bringing their mouths back together in a slightly less awkward but all the more passionate second kiss. John wasn't complaining, of course. In fact, if his tightening grip was an indicator to agreement of disagreement he was appreciative of Sherlock's forwardness.

      When it was absolutely necessary to pull back to breathe, Sherlock rested his forehead against John's. At some point John had backed Sherlock against the doorframe, and considering the boneless feeling in his legs Sherlock was grateful that he'd done it.

      "S'about fucking time." John panted into Sherlock's open mouth. Sherlock groaned at John's choice of words, and John laughed, bringing a hand up to brush a stray curl from Sherlock's forehead. His hand froze in Sherlock's hair and his face became serious, "Is this...is this okay? You...want this?"

      "I have wanted this for ages, John Watson. Don't you _dare_ stop now." Sherlock panted, and John licked his lips as he watched Sherlock's pupils dilate.

      "Oh." John buried his face in Sherlock's neck, breathing in his scent and slight perspiration from running around London. "Is this-did you just want a sexual-uh-this once?"

      Sherlock was quiet a moment, trying to word out his response. He held John closer to him and guided John's face back up and pressed a chaste, fluttering kiss to his lips. "I want-I have wanted for a very long tine-you. I want you in the morning, when you'd kiss me with your eyes still closed from sleep. I want you when you get home from work, and you'll want to take a bath and perhaps take me to bed,your skin still wet, water mixing with perspiration. I want you when you yell at me for keeping decomposing anatomy in the flat, or when you take a walk to clear your thoughts when I frustrate you. I want you when you come home still angry but you _come_ _back_. I want you, all of you, always."

      John's face had broken into an ear-to-ear grin during Sherlock's speech. John pressed butterfly kisses all over Sherlock's face, muttering, "Oh God, yes. I want you like that. I want you to want _me_  like that, please."

      Sherlock took John's hands in his own, lacing their fingers  together, "Stay. You can go help Mary tomorrow, but stay with me tonight."

      "Are you joking? Sherlock Holmes, I plan to stay with you  _forever_."

      Neither man realised until the next morning that Sherlock's hastily discarded mobile had gotten a text message from Mycroft Holmes. It read; "A team of professional movers will arrive at the former Mrs. Watson's residence at seven thirty A.M. Congratulations, brother mine."


End file.
